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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25722046">here and now and next</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydearmoon/pseuds/mydearmoon'>mydearmoon</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Girls (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Soft Rio (Good Girls)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 11:08:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,268</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25722046</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydearmoon/pseuds/mydearmoon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometime after Season 3. </p><p>Beth learns how to be alone. Rio helps, in a way.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Beth Boland/Rio</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>242</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>here and now and next</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">Beth finds that finally separating from Dean - like <em>actually</em> separating -is a lot smoother than either of them thought it would go.</p><p class="p1">The decision is easier this time, a lot more obvious, a lot less resistant. Boland Bubbles has made a name for itself in the area and Dean proudly manages the floor. He’s oblivious - perhaps intentionally - to the more shady dealings, and Beth happily lets him remain so. It turns out the secret to a successful business is give and take. And Beth is content to give Dean as much public-facing control of the store, as long as it means she can take the reigns behind-the-scenes, and forge her partnership with Rio.</p><p class="p1">And it all goes well, for a lot longer than Beth would have ever guessed. They fill their lives, both at home and in the store, with pragmatic routine. It’s all so well orchestrated that Beth and Dean rarely bicker anymore, and few and far between are the tense comments that used to hang constantly in the air.</p><p class="p1">In fact, they rarely say much of anything anymore.</p><p class="p1">So it’s a late August evening on their weekly date-night, where they always eat at Luca’s and order the same dishes and the same wine, that Beth looks at her husband. He’s rehashing some intricate anecdote involving a goofy customer who stopped in today, and Beth is <em>trying</em> to focus on Dean's story, but she just <em>can’t</em>.</p><p class="p1">Instead, she finds herself examining each mannerism that is <em>so very Dean</em>: The way he uses his hands to emphasize each point, big gestures that punctuate every sentence. The way he ends every other statement by pulling his tone up, as if he were crafting a cliff-hanger that she’d never believe (spoiler: the customer buys the hot tub, along with all the bells and whistles that Dean tacked on). The way he grins easily at the end of his tale, settles back in his seat, and eyes Beth expectantly, awaiting her delight.</p><p class="p1">These are things she loved about Dean, once, long ago. There was a time when his unlimited confidence drew her in, and she was content to stand beside him, a dutiful, adoring wife, who minded their gaggle of babies.</p><p class="p1">But the things that are so very Dean are so very <em>not</em> Beth. Not anymore, and not for a long time.</p><p class="p1">And it’s not that she doesn’t love Dean. She does, in the way that you have love for someone who has seen you grow from teenager into adulthood, who has built and shared their life with you, who has become the definition of familiar and comfortable. But it’s a love that feels based more on memory, and no longer feels relevant to who she is <em>here</em> and <em>now, </em>or who she will be <em>next. </em></p><p class="p1">So as Dean refocuses on his dinner, Beth asks, straightforward and strong, “Do you love me?”</p><p class="p1">A surprised Dean is caught mid-chew. He slowly finishes his ravioli and furrows his brow. Beth sees in his eyes that he is deliberating over her question, weighing the meaning carefully. And while his answer takes longer than one would typically hope from their life partner, Beth is comforted by the fact that he’s considering her question so seriously.</p><p class="p1">“Not in the way that I should,” he finally admits - sadly, thoughtfully.</p><p class="p1">Beth finds that rather than pain, she only feels relief.</p><p class="p1">She offers Dean a gentle smile and says, “Yeah. Me neither.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">That was about two months ago. Telling their children went about as smoothly as one could hope, with the majority of their questions dealing with Christmas logistics and if they could get cellphones (“You know, for safety” was Jane’s pitch). Dean found a spacious apartment that was only a fifteen minute drive away (“We have a pool!” was what won over Danny). Their kids <em>always</em> come first, and they’ve developed a schedule that gives each parent ample time with the family. And continuing to work together at Boland Bubbles has been surprisingly uncomplicated - it turns out they’d been acting more like co-workers than a married couple for a long while now.</p><p class="p1">More recently however, Beth has noticed that her oldest gets a little more anxious when it comes to leaving her alone. Before heading out for their father’s apartment, Kenny has started to do his best to tidy things up, whether that’s helping unload the dishwasher, or gathering an assortment of stray socks and dropping them in the hamper.</p><p class="p1">So on Saturday morning, when Dean drives up and honks twice to announce his arrival, the younger children grab their bags and race each other to kiss their mother good bye. Their exuberance is countered by Kenny, who quietly hangs back and gathers the last of the breakfast dishes to bring them to the kitchen sink. Unfortunately, a clumsy moment results in an empty glass slipping and shattering on the countertop. Before his growing embarrassment has time to take hold, Beth hugs her oldest child and places a kiss on the top of his head.</p><p class="p1">“It’s just a glass. I’ll take care of it,” Beth assures him.</p><p class="p1">“Are you sure? I should have been <em>careful</em>,” Kenny replies sheepishly. He peers up at his mother, worry sketched in his young face. </p><p class="p1">A warm smile spreads across her face. Beth isn’t sure what’s prompted this new behavior from her son, perhaps it’s just his growing awareness that his mother is probably not used to being without her brood, perhaps it’s a realization that for a few days each week, she really is <em>completely</em> <em>alone</em>. Whatever it is, seeing how earnestly her oldest wants to take care of her amid their changing family dynamics fills Beth with a deep, fierce love for her son.</p><p class="p1">“It’s <em>just</em> a glass” Beth repeats adamantly and gives him another comforting hug. “Now get goin’, I’ll see you Monday.”</p><p class="p1">Kenny’s shoulders lift and he grins, hugging his mother back. As he runs out the front door, he looks over his shoulder and yells an enthusiastic “Love you!”</p><p class="p1">“Love you back!” she calls out to him, and gets to picking up the glass shards.</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">Which leads her to now, eating ice cream straight from the freezer and feeling absolutely sorry for herself.</p><p class="p1">As smooth and easy as this process has been, as understanding and resilient her children have been, Kenny’s inclination is accurate. Beth is truly terrible at being alone, embarrassingly so. Loneliness isn’t a new concept to her. Dean’s past <em>extracurriculars</em> at the car dealership gave Beth <em>plenty</em> of practice at feeling lonely. But being alone, physically, is not something she’s had much experience in. Annie has been her constant shadow since the day she entered the world, practically. And once Ruby entered their lives, she was always just a phone call and car ride away. This is the first time Beth has ever needed to be simply by herself.</p><p class="p1">The combination of feeling alone and being lonely is overwhelming. The first few times the kids stayed with Dean,she’d ask Annie or Ruby to stop over for dinner or drinks, or she’d spend most of the days with them and their families. But she’s a grown woman who is afraid of solitude, and she knows it’s ridiculous how desperately she seeks company.</p><p class="p1">So, she’s been working on fighting all urges to call her girls on the nights that Dean has the kids. She’s lonely and alone? Push past it, she tells herself. And if she’s being honest? It’s…not going great. But at least she no longer tears up when folding the laundry and coming across Emma’s favorite bunny print pajamas that she’s long outgrown.</p><p class="p1">Ice cream for dinner helps.</p><p class="p1">Beth is making excellent progress getting through this caramel swirl ice cream, when a knock at the back door startles her out of her self pity.</p><p class="p1">It’s Rio, of course, the only person she knows who refuses to use the front door. Establishing their new roles has been challenging to say the least. Failed murder attempts, constant threats, and hiring a hitman who is bad at his job will do that to a relationship. But money - a <em>lot</em> of money - has a way of helping people see past their differences.</p><p class="p1">She and Rio have come to terms by just <em>moving on</em>, honestly. Their interactions are stiff at best, and she’s certain there is barely enough trust between the two to keep the operation running. Whatever their partnership used to be and whatever she imagined was once between them, whatever she imagines she <em>still</em> sees sometimes in glancing, fleeting moments - it’s <em>not</em> that at all.</p><p class="p1"><em>It’s fine and it’s a job</em>, she tells herself, during the moments she finds herself staring at his bottom lip, at his calloused fingers a little too long, remembering what it felt like to have his lips and hands exploring her, frantic and desperate.</p><p class="p1"><em>It’s fine and it’s a job</em>, she tells herself, whenever she finds herself distracted by the low, gritty notes of his voice, remembering his satisfying hum when he made her cry out and come hard with his tongue, the <em>fuckfuckfuck </em>he groaned when in her blissed out state she breathed, “Just fuck me”, and he slid into her immediately, sinking in deep.</p><p class="p1">Beth ignores all that and opens the door, taking a few steps back to allow him in.</p><p class="p1">“Hey,” she greets him awkwardly, suddenly very conscious of being in her favorite thread-bare leggings, holding her half empty carton of store brand ice cream.Rio is clothed in his typical well-fitted, all black uniform: neatly pressed black button up, black jeans, black Converse. He looks good because he <em>always</em> looks good and because Beth has eyes and can’t she appreciate that for even a <em>moment</em>? ...God, she’s lonely.</p><p class="p1">Rio stands comfortably in her kitchen, hands in his pockets, and gives her his usual long look-over. His eyes momentarily rest on her hair (tied up in a messy bun because she hasn’t washed it in a few days), the nearly finished ice cream, and her mismatched socks (damnit, she <em>really</em> needs to start paying more attention to which socks she grabs).</p><p class="p1">“You got the cash?” Rio asks, his voice smooth and indifferent. He places a duffle bag on the ground by his feet.</p><p class="p1">Shit. In her melancholy, she’d forgotten that they’d arranged to have the drop at her house tonight.</p><p class="p1">“I do, I’ll grab it”, she says, trying to keep her voice even and not like she didn’t just totally forget that he was coming by tonight.</p><p class="p1">Beth moves to place the ice cream down. When her hand brushes against the kitchen counter, an involuntary hiss escapes her lips as something sharp pierces her skin. She examines the cut as blood begins to well; a small piece of glass that had gone unseen is embedded deep in her palm.</p><p class="p1">“You good?” Rio hasn’t moved from his spot, but he tilts his head ever so slightly.</p><p class="p1">She is already walking swiftly towards the hallway bathroom. “Yes, I just… we had an accident this morning and Kenny dropped a glass, and I <em>thought</em> I picked it all up…it’s nothing,” Beth rambles and gives the bathroom light switch a quick flick on.</p><p class="p1">Beth opens the medicine cabinet and grabs a pair of tweezers. She’s been so focused on her steps that she nearly misses the fact that Rio has followed her to the small bathroom.</p><p class="p1">Leaning against the sink, she attempts to take the tiny shard out of her hand. Beth misses once, twice, three times. With each attempt, she bumps the piece of glass, earning herself more sharp pain. Rio quietly observes the scene, his body propped against the doorframe.</p><p class="p1">Beth bites her lip in frustration and it’s not even that the pain is that bad (it’s more annoying than anything), but after the third failed attempt, this moment suddenly feels a lot bigger than it actually is. Dealing with a minor cut in her hand is now suddenly a <em>fucking</em> cut in her <em>fucking</em> hand and <em>goddamnit</em> could this be any <em>worse</em>, and oh yes it could be, because <em>Rio</em> is here to see it.</p><p class="p1">And to her complete dismay, tears form in Beth’s eyes.</p><p class="p1">Meanwhile, Rio has remained lingering, silent and impassive. His stoic demeanor makes this even worse, and anger and embarrassment layer on top of the self-pity that Beth has already felt all day. She is unable to prevent the large tears that begin falling down her face.</p><p class="p1">“I don’t know why I’m crying. This doesn’t even hurt. I’m not sad, I swear.” she tries to explain, feeling pathetic and vulnerable.</p><p class="p1">The unwanted tears blur her vision and she blinks rapidly. It’s not very effective, and she fails yet again at taking the glass out of her hand.</p><p class="p1">“Shit!” she exclaims in frustration.</p><p class="p1">“Hey,” Rio’s voice cuts the air. “Lemme do that.”</p><p class="p1">Beth begins to protest, but Rio ignores her. He moves from his post by the door and closes in on her space, using one hand to take the tweezers, and the other to hold her wrist gently in place.</p><p class="p1">The contact is brief. And maybe it’s just due to the heartache she’s felt all day, deeply missing her children and being utterly alone in her house, but whatever it is - Beth suddenly wants nothing more than to be pressed against Rio, and to remember what it feels like to be wanted.</p><p class="p1">But Rio is adept and efficient (it is, after all, just a piece of glass), and he pulls out the tiny shard and lets go of her hand.</p><p class="p1">Beth fights back the urge to sigh, to object the loss of his touch.</p><p class="p1">“You got bandaids?” Rio’s eyes move up and focus on Beth’s very well organized medicine cabinet. He easily spots the first aid cream and bandaids.</p><p class="p1">The corners of Rio’s mouth tug up to nearly form a smile as he studies the box of bandages.</p><p class="p1">“Marcus likes Minions, too.” he remarks offhandedly, while cleaning her cut and applying the cream. Methodically, he takes out one of the cartoon themed bandaids and carefully fixes it to her skin.</p><p class="p1">The ease with which Rio’s mentions his son immediately sits heavy on Beth. During the months when she inserted herself into Rhea and Marcus’s lives, looking at Marcus’s sweet, innocent face always reminded her of the anger and disbelief that flashed in Rio’s eyes when she shot him, once, twice, three times. </p><p class="p1">Beth had been more than willing to leave a permanent empty hole in Rio’s son’s life. And here she is, feeling sorry for herself when her children stay with their father for just a few days at a time.</p><p class="p1">She doesn’t have much time to dwell on that, however. Rio runs a thumb over the plastic bandaid, smoothing out the yellow cartoon face smiling up at them. Beth’s breath quickens at his small, unexpected action.</p><p class="p1">Beth wills herself to steady her breathing when Rio raises her bandaged hand close to his face, as if he were studying his handiwork<em>. </em>His movement is sudden and effortless, and she’s dizzied by the feel of his breath, hot against her skin.</p><p class="p1">And just as abruptly, Rio releases her hand. Beth drops her arm back to her side, feeling clumsy and unsure.</p><p class="p1">Rio returns to his casual position against the door frame as if the last few moments hadn’t occurred. “You good?” he repeats his question from earlier.</p><p class="p1">Beth’s cheeks feel hot, embarrassed by how affected she is by his nearness. She busies herself by returning items to the cabinet, wiping invisible dust off the counter, and exits the bathroom. She does her best to avoid touching his body, and it's annoying how much space his lanky frame takes up in this tiny room.</p><p class="p1">“I’ll go get the money,” Beth mumbles, avoiding his eyes.</p><p class="p1">As she rounds out the door, Rio’s hand darts out to catch her by the elbow.</p><p class="p1">She whips her head back to look at him, only to surprised by the easy smile that rests on his face.</p><p class="p1">“And what do we say, <em>Elizabeth</em>?” he asks, in a tone she’s familiar with. It’s the same one she uses when her children need reminders of politeness and proper behavior.</p><p class="p1">She’s thrown off by his sudden playfulness, but she wills herself to not show it. Instead, she gives him back a smirk and rolls her eyes, “Thank you.” She draws out the two words, extending the short syllables as long as they allow.</p><p class="p1">The lightness in Rio’s voice has reached his eyes, which are now bright and studying Beth in a way that makes her belly flip and drop.</p><p class="p1">“For…” he prods her again, teasing.</p><p class="p1">She gives Rio a long look and in an exaggerated tone adds, “<em>Thank you</em> for helping bandage my hand.”</p><p class="p1">“Cool, cool.” Rio grins back at her, but makes no move to release her arm from his hold.</p><p class="p1">Beth positions her body now to face Rio squarely. She studies his narrow face, trying to understand what’s brought on this sudden kindness and good humor, these acts of affection that are so out of the ordinary. Beth tries to picture what he sees: A recently divorced mother, bumbling through her late thirties and entering her forties, splotchy and red-faced from crying, with unkempt hair and a now melted box of ice cream in her kitchen?</p><p class="p1">And just like that, Beth is irritated at the idea that the softness in Rio’s eyes is really just pity for her sorry situation. </p><p class="p1">“I’m still getting used to be alone.” she declares, jutting out her chin defiantly. It’s not the greatest of comebacks, and she’s sure she will berate herself later for not thinking of something actually witty. But the statement is good enough for now.</p><p class="p1">“I see that, yeah,” Rio hums in agreement, and gives her arm a quick squeeze.</p><p class="p1">“I’ll be fine,” Beth hardens her voice, and tries to ignore the strong desire to lean into his touch.</p><p class="p1">“I don’t doubt it,” Rio’s hand drifts from her arm to her hair, and he gently tugs at a curl that hangs loosely. </p><p class="p1">“Don’t feel sorry for me,” Beth struggles to maintain her steely resolve, determined to ignore the way his fingers have traveled and are now kneading the back of her neck.</p><p class="p1">“Never did,” Rio drawls out and leans towards her, impossibly near. </p><p class="p1">They remain standing like that, bodies close and faces closer. Rio’s mouth is slightly open, hovering over hers in a way that feels more intimate than it ought to. When his tongue darts out briefly to wet his lip, Beth feels the heat rise and surge over her body, a corkscrew of impulse and desire.</p><p class="p1">Rio doesn’t attempt to bridge the little space between them, only watches her patiently through hooded eyes. Beth tries again to picture what he sees: This time, she feels a mix of pride and bashfulness when she realizes that whatever he sees in her right now - he <em>wants</em>.</p><p class="p1">So Beth pushes up on her toes and brushes her lips against his, the earthy notes of sandalwood and something citrusy enveloping her. And she’s sure she’ll hate herself later, but that doesn’t stop her from whispering a little more nonsense against his lips, “The ice cream is melting.”</p><p class="p1">“I’ll get you a new one in the mornin’,” Rio’s promise comes out in a low growl, all the while keeping his lips resting against hers. He dips one hand to the inside of her leggings and pushes her panties aside, lightly tracing her slick core to let her know <em>he means it</em>.</p><p class="p1">And Beth knows she really should be practicing being alone, but tonight - tonight she’ll allow herself company.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I mean...I can't help it. SoftRio is my favorite Rio.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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